


Both Ways

by JoMarch, RyoSen



Series: Exit Strategy [12]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 04:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1674857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoMarch/pseuds/JoMarch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyoSen/pseuds/RyoSen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Author:  Ryo Sen, not Jo March</p><p>Josh wants it both ways.  Sequel to Jo March's Exit Strategy: Crossroads.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Both Ways

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Vague, by this point, for Somebody's Going to Emergency, Somebody's Going to Jail.
> 
> Disclaimer: Yeah, I know. I have to give them back when I'm done. Not my sandbox.
> 
> Thanks: Take a wild guess who I'm thanking. Jo, you rock. For many, many reasons. And it's back to you. Also, thanks to Karen -- I will be gorging myself on early season one episodes for the rest of the night.

I have no idea how long it's been since CJ left.

Although, I'm pretty sure it was daylight while she was here, and now the sky is the deep dark blue it gets right before the sun's light disappears completely. So I guess it's been awhile.

Under normal circumstances, I like the night. I love being in my office at night with only the soft glow of my desk lamp for illumination. This is usually my favorite part of the day; I am in my element under the cool light of the stars. I suppose it plays into my self-image as a man of mystery. Inscrutable, even.

But tonight, the dark seems more like the drawing of a curtain at the end of a play. This day -- this amazing and horrific day I spent loving Donna -- It's over.

Morning will come too soon, and then the time After Donna will start with a vengeance.

The ringing telephone startles me to an alarming degree. It takes me a while to slow my breathing and unclench my rigid muscles. But I don't answer. There's no one I want to talk to right now.

I only half-listen as the machine picks up and my disembodied voice implores the caller to leave a message. And then I freeze. I don't even think I'm breathing.

Because it's Donna.

She says, "I love you," and it's all I can do not to hurl myself at the phone. Then I remember my decision; I won't put her through hell.

And so I sit there, paralyzed, as she tells me that she doesn't want to leave, that she's miserable, and that she'll stay if I want her to.

God, do I want her to.

She's still talking, assuring me that she loves me and -- because she is so utterly Donna -- reminding me of my staff meeting in the morning.

I am laughing, suddenly, with no recollection of having started. Bitter, watery chuckles that almost hurt.

The irony is almost unbearable. Donna loves me so much that she's willing to stay, and I love her so much that I could never ask her to stay. Because I know how it would end.

Sure, we would be happy for a while. Blissful, even. I mean, we've more than proven our compatibility. But what happens when it hits the press and Donna is called all manner of things? What happens when we're booted unceremoniously from the White House and Donna is left without a degree to fall back on?

She'll resent me -- she wanted to go back to school, but I asked her to stay.

The thing that kills me is -- it's a piece of paper! Considering her seemingly endless capacity for acquiring knowledge, not to mention her on-the-job training, it's absurd that she could be discounted for a job because she doesn't have a piece of paper. I mean, it's not like I wouldn't keep her on as my assistant for, you know, ever, but her potential is limitless. She could be anything. She could be a doctor or a lawyer or -- anything.

Hell, she could run for office.

Can you imagine? Congresswoman Moss. Striking fear into the hearts of the Republicans with her unparalleled ability to filibuster. Senator Moss.

I would be ecstatic to help her any way I could. I could run her campaign office, or even be the little husband--

Okay. Where did that come from?

I shake myself and say, "She needs her degree," to the room at large. The sound of my voice saying words I don't want to hear is sometimes enough.

Not tonight.

But, I tell myself, Donna is my assistant, and she wants to be more. I want more for her. I want, above all else, for her to be happy.

A little voice inside my head -- a voice that sounds alarmingly like CJ, now that I think about it -- points out that Donna said she was happy this morning. With me.

I chew on that for a moment, staring longingly at the blinking light on my answering machine. When I can't take it anymore, I jump up and hit play. Yup, there it is: "All I know is that I was happy this morning and I'm miserable now."

Well, I can certainly relate to that.

I stand there, wallowing in indecision for another long moment. Is it possible that we could have it both ways? That we could make each other happy instead of miserable? I'm a politician; having it both ways is my job.

I grab my coat off the back of the chair and head for the door. I've got to talk to Donna.

***

I bang on Donna's door harder than normal. When it doesn't open instantly, I yell "Donnatella Moss!" for good measure. This feels right. So right that I am grinning somewhat vapidly at the peephole.

Donna pulls the door open, her eyes wide. "Josh?"

"Yes," I nod. Then I brush past her -- and nearly whimper with such proximity -- to head inside.

Donna closes the door, then slowly turns to face me, leaning back against the wood for support. "What are you doing here?"

"We're stupid," I say. Not the most romantic opener, but I'm doing the best I can.

Donna raises an eyebrow. "Did CJ talk to you after she left here?"

I stop pacing and stare at her. "No. Why?"

"She told me we were stupid. Actually, I believe the term she used was 'fools.'"

I try to remember what CJ said to me earlier, but it's all a blur. "She probably told me that too," I answer with a shrug. "And for once, she's right."

Donna grins.

I am immeasurably relieved to know I can still make her smile.

"For once?" Donna asks, a hint of teasing in her voice.

"Yes," I say, grinning unabashedly back at her. "The woman can't find Istanbul on a map, but she can bring the girlie stuff."

Donna crosses her arms. "The girlie stuff, Josh? You sure that's what you want to lead off with?"

I shift my weight nervously. "What do you want me to say?"

Donna pushes away from the door and walks past me, curling into the corner of the couch. "I'd like to know why you're here."

"I got your message."

She turns her big, blue eyes up to me as I cross the room and sink onto the couch beside her. It is killing me to not touch her right now.

"Really?" she asks, with this catch in her voice.

"Yes," I say. "And it made me realize -- we're idiots."

Donna gives me an uncertain look. "Did you come over here to insult me? Because I've really had enough--"

"No!" I interrupt. Why can't I explain myself? "We're going about this backwards. We're looking at this like a political problem."

"It _is_ a political problem," Donna points out glumly.

"It's not," I insist. "It could be one, I'll give you that, but right now--" I stare at her. "Right now, it's something we have to figure out for us. Not for the _Washington Post_."

"Josh," Donna says, taking my hand. "Are you asking me to stay?"

It's so hard not to say yes. It's so hard not to beg her to stay. But I hold her gaze and say, "No, I'm not."

Donna glances away from me, and tries to pull her hand back. I won't let go. Not this time.

"I can't ask you to stay, Donna," I say softly. "That doesn't mean I don't want to. That certainly doesn't mean I don't want you to stay. But I want you to do what makes you happy."

She chances a look at me, and I can see the indecision. "I don't want to leave you, Josh," she admits quietly. "But I don't want this...I don't want to be the cause of...I wouldn't be able to deal with it if you ended up hating me."

I think my jaw is on my lap. "Hating you?" I repeat, dumbfounded. "How could I ever--?" I shake my head. "Donna, you're my Dogstar!"

Donna stares at me for a long moment, and then she starts to laugh. And I join her, because, really, we are too stupid to be let out in public.

"Dogstar?" Donna says, still laughing. "You come to me with 'you're my Dogstar'?"

I shrug. "It's true."

She grins at me. "Does this have something to do with the sparkly space dust?"

I can feel my face flushing. "Did CJ tell you about that?"

"CJ didn't really understand what the hell you were talking about, Josh. Sparkly space dust?"

I look down at our intertwined hands. "It's a metaphor. It's stupid."

Donna's free hand comes to rest on my knee. "Explain it to me."

I fumble around for words. "It's -- that's what trails after comets and, you know, other heavenly bodies." I glance up at her. "When they leave."

Donna squeezes my knee. "Oh, Josh."

And then she is kissing me.

All is right with the world. I am anchored to her gravity. I am wrapped around her and I feel amazing. She feels amazing.

Until she pulls away. "Dogstar?" she prompts.

I stare at her. "You're really going to make me explain?"

"Yes," she says, smiling.

And because it's so right, so wonderful to see this happiness on her face, I explain. I tell her all about Sirius and how it's really two stars. I explain that they orbit each other, forever, and that this thing between us, this gravity...

I tell her I love her.

Maybe that's enough to start.

THE END

03.06.01


End file.
